The Bastard

by Inez Kelley

  He eased her back to the mattress. “Do you need something more?”

  “My purse.” At his hesitation, she rolled her eyes. “I need my monitoring kit, not a tampon. Quit being such a man. It’s on the kitchen counter. And could you…walk instead of that Houdini thing?”

  Indignation stabbed into him, but he whipped around and stomped to the kitchen. A paisley handbag sat on the counter beside a stack of mail. He grabbed it and, just to irritate her, Leaped back to the bedroom.

  She jumped and threw a cracker at him. “That’s freaky, stop it.”

  Zale ducked the square, then watched in fascination as she drew her own blood and soaked a tiny paper strip in the drops. The machine attached to it beeped. The numbers made her frown and she grabbed several more crackers, topped them with jam, then leaned back on the headboard.

  “Okay. Now that I’m thinking again, sit. Talk.” She pointed to the armchair.

  Zale’s chin rose. She spoke as if he was a dog. That was something he’d suffered through long ago and would not allow ever again. He spun on one heel and headed for the front door.

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Annie’s fingers grabbed hold of his arm. “You can’t pop in here after my sister was kidnapped by your cronies, take care of me while I’m unconscious, announce you’re not human and leave.”

  He said nothing and took two more steps.

  “Zale, please.” She darted in front of him, blocking the narrow hall. Her eyes were huge and deep. “I don’t know what’s happening. I’m so confused.”

  Her confusion was not his concern. He’d made a mistake Leaping in front of her and now she knew too much, but there was no reason for him to explain further. She could live a lifetime with confusion and it wouldn’t affect him in the slightest. He drew a breath, preparing to Leap behind her. She fingered a thin strand of her hair, twisting it and pulling it between her teeth. The unconscious move froze every muscle in his body.

  His mind flashed back, to centuries long ago, to a timid girl who did the same. The only human who had never used him, betrayed him or feared him. Annie’s dark eyes rose to his but he didn’t see her. He saw another face, younger, rounder, with an open faith that refused to be crushed. The only face he’d dared care for in his life. It was a killing blow to his icy heart.

  He nodded almost unconsciously. Then reality crashed hard. She was nothing to him, nothing more than bloodline he’d been ordered to protect. The hand on his arm, the one he’d ignored, squeezed lightly. He jerked away.

  Annie tilted her head. “You don’t like to be touched, do you?”

  He merely strode by her into the living room. Although he doubted any Leeches would attack, he parted the curtains and looked out. The night was still. A growing awareness weighted his stomach. He could feel her eyes on him, feel her study him as she settled on the couch, tucking a knitted blanket around her legs.

  “Lacy said some weird cult was after her. Is that true?”

  Cult? His lip twitched. “That’s one way to describe them.”

  “Am I in danger?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? I mean, why Lacy and not me?”

  “You’re defective.” Her eyes went wide. “They don’t want those who aren’t healthy and whole.”

  “I’m diabetic, not defective!” she snapped. “I’m as healthy as you are.”

  He said nothing. He scanned the street once more then faced her, unprepared for his chest to constrict so painfully. She was chewing on her hair again.

  “What are you?”

  “A man.” As close as any other Forsaken was, anyway. He’d died in this human body and now carried it for eternity.

  “Men can’t disappear into thin air.” The limp hair fell from her lips. “Erik and those others who were here, can they do that? Disappear?”

  “Yes.” He shrugged his shoulders sharply, needing to feel the healing skin pull and tug to give him focus. “You should forget you saw that.”

  “I’d sooner forget little green men landing on the porch,” she scoffed, then looked quickly at him. “You’re not an alien, right?”

  An uncharacteristic smile inched out. “No.”

  “Can you do any other magic tricks?”

  He started to deny it but the words refused to come. He couldn’t lie. “I heal quickly.”

  Silence fell, stretching the air between them like a taut wire. Questions danced across her face but he offered no information. He should just walk out and Leap back to H2Q. He owed this Scionim nothing but protection. Unable to make his feet take the four steps to the door and unsure why, he faced the window.

  A soft inhale turned his head. Shock gave way to a seasoned look of pure determination on her face. Annie thrust the blanket away and bounded to his side. He frowned as she grabbed for his tee shirt. She managed to expose his stomach before he shoved her hands away.

  “There’s blood on your back. Get this shirt off so I can look at it.”

  “No.” He took three steps back but she followed him.

  “Stop with the virginal crap. I’ve seen bare chests before. I’m a paramedic, let me help.”

  “It’s been seen by a doctor.”

  Nomad’s medical degree didn’t lessen her frown. She continued trying to reach for his shirt but he sidestepped and backed away in some strange reluctant dance until his shoulders hit the wall.

  Drawing herself to her full height, which was still several inches below his six feet, she settled a hard look on him. “Zale, take your shirt off. I’m going to get my bag.”

  She disappeared into the kitchen. Escape was easy. A few paces to the door and a Leap away, but his feet wouldn’t move. He was still plastered to the wall like a squashed bug when she returned, blue bag bearing a caduceus in hand. An authoritative finger pointed to the couch and he sat without protest. She tugged on latex gloves, arched one brow and waited. Zale pulled the shirt off and faced the blank wall.

  The tape barely stung as she eased it from his skin with much more consideration than he’d used with her. She peeled back the layer of padding and sucked in a soft breath. “When did this happen?”

  “A few hours ago.” He fought to ignore the delicate fingers prodding his wound.

  “Oh my God, this looks weeks old. But you tore open the stitches at the top. It’s bleeding pretty heavily.”

  She reached for a small vial and he gripped her hand. “Medications don’t work on me.”

  Her jaw dropped. “None?”

  “No.”

  “But this needs re-stitched. You’ll need something to numb it.”

  “It’ll heal.”

  “It has to hurt.”

  “Pain’s temporary. Leave it.”

  Her mouth thinned. “Can I at least wash it out and retape some padding to it?” He shrugged and she swatted his shoulder. “Stop moving before you rip it more.”

  For several minutes, he sat, trying not to move as her fingers skimmed over his spine. A cold fluid poured over it then soft cotton swiped away the moisture. There was some stinging and a sharp jab when she pinched the flesh together, applying small strips of tape to hold the skin, but he didn’t flinch. Such pains were more like fleabites compared to other injuries he’d suffered. What was foreign and more difficult to sit through was her light touch tracing his Forsaken Mark, feathering over the edges. It was something he’d never felt.

  “This must have hurt, too,” she murmured.

  It had. It had burned like fire but he said nothing, his teeth clamped shut, unsure what words his tongue would let loose.

  “Hold still, almost done.”

  He hadn’t twitched. The last bit of tape smoothed into place. Her touch slid up his neck and stroked his nape. A shiver worked his spine, but he forced it under control. A soothing shhh fell from her lips as she continued petting his neck. “Sorry, I tried to be as gentle as I could.”

  No one had touched him with such gentleness, offered such innocent care, since before his death and then it had been but one
person. The actions warped with her chewing her hair and painted across his mind into a face from his past. He pinched his eyes closed. He’d failed and lost everything, including his life. It hadn’t been that great of a loss but the one who’d died with him, her hurt stung like a fiery whip.

  Without warning, a vibration sank into his Mark. Not the presence of evil or the burn of a fallen Forsaken but a summons. Sela called her warriors to her side. Zale jammed his shirt over his head. “I have to go.”

  “No, wait!” Annie dropped her supplies and followed him to the door. “I don’t… There’s so much I don’t understand. Please stay.”

  “I can’t.”

  He had the doorknob in his hand when hers covered it. “Zale, please.”

  Some unknown force in the universe connected his eyes with hers. The pleading there, the longing, the hopeless yearning, dug beneath his ribs. He’d killed without blinking, maimed without conscious, and destroyed without regret, but he couldn’t look from her eyes. All he could hear was the soft whimpering of a long-ago dead girl who’d deserved better asking “Why?”

  “I’ll come back when I can.” The words left his mouth without thought.

  “Promise?”

  Promises meant nothing in life, unless they came from him. If he vowed it, he had to do it. “Yes.”

  She watched as he left the porch and crossed the street. Beneath a barren elm, in the shadows of two houses, he paused and looked back. Her hand lifted in farewell. He Leaped before he could be tempted to return it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sour vomit and stale Coke. The thick taste consumed her. Lacy wiggled her pasty tongue along her lips and tried to move, but something stopped her. Her hands were bound to the wide headboard posts. Panic scrubbed the fugue from her mind and her eyes snapped open.

  Erik stood with his back to her, calmly tucking the clothes she’d thrown to the floor of his bedroom back into drawers. Residual alcohol and whatever drug had been on that cloth stood no chance against the pure anger that erupted in her bloodstream.

  “God damn it, Erik, untie me!”

  Erik looked up and into the mirror. “You’re awake.”

  “No shit, you jerk.” She thrashed, trying to break free but only managed to rub her wrists raw against the tight bonds. The comforter bunched and slid and she kicked it away. “I’m not kidding around here, let me go.”

  “I can’t.” Heaving a tired sigh, he slid a drawer shut and came near the bed. Her foot shot out but he was faster, catching her ankle before it connected with his groin. “I know you’re pissed at me.”

  “You think?” She bared her teeth and snarled. He had no freaking clue.

  “It’s for your own good,” he said. She ripped her foot out of his hand and kicked, catching him square in the knee. “Damn it, Lace. Don’t make me tie your feet, too.”

  “Make you?” She banked her fury, glaring. If she could summon a death ray from her eyes, he would so be kissing his ass goodbye right now. “If you wanted to tie me up in bed, you should’ve thought about that before screwing your boss. Now let me go.”

  “No.”

  Erik left the bedroom but she could hear him moving around. Craning her neck, she checked her restraints. Each wrist was buckled into some weird bondage bracelet with a metal loop on the side. A bright blue rope threaded through the loop and secured her arms spread to each of the bedposts. No amount of tugging loosened the knots.

  He would have to have a king-sized bed. She’d enjoyed the space when they’d made love, but now an ache spread through her shoulders. She squirmed until she was sitting upright against the headboard. The strain on her shoulders reduced.

  Throwing back her head, she screamed. It was high-pitched, shrill and scored her throat but surely one of the guys had to hear her.

  “Damn, you’re loud, babe.” Erik came back into the bedroom carrying a bottle of water. She hadn’t been thirsty until she saw it. “It doesn’t matter how much you scream. The only ones who can hear won’t help.”

  He sat at the edge of the mattress and held the water bottle up. She spat in his face. Wedging his chin forward, he swiped the spit away from his cheek. “Do you want some water or not?”

  She did. She wanted water and a huge freakin’ stick to beat him with. He wasn’t offering the second though, so she gave him a tight nod. He used such care tipping the bottle to her mouth, holding it steady so she wouldn’t choke. The cool water was like heaven, coating her raw throat and soothing her cracked tongue. He pulled away twice to give her a breather but came back and let her drink her fill. One huge hand slipped behind her head to help and she jerked away.

  “Don’t touch me! Untie me, now, Erik.”

  “I can’t. Not yet. Once you calm down, then I’ll think about it.”

  He’d think about it? His utter nonchalance grated on her. “You drugged me.”

  “Worked, didn’t it?”

  “What did you do to Annie?”

  “Nothing. She’s probably still asleep on the couch.”

  “She’ll call the police. They’ll come and get me and arrest all of you.”

  A superior smile carved into his face. “No, they won’t. They don’t know where we are and even if they did, they can’t get here. I’m trying to save your life.”

  “Kidnapping me? Drugging me? That’s not saving my life. Those are felonies!”

  He shrugged. “Whatever. You’re safe for now.”

  “Until what? Until you decide to kill me? Is that part of your plan, too?”

  Guilt flashed on his face and he looked away. A chill raced up her spine. “You’d really kill me?”

  “Just work with me, all right?”

  Oh, hell no. He just implied he might kill her and then asked for her cooperation? That was never going to happen. There had to be a way out of this. She sent him what she hoped was a pleading look. “Please?”

  “I can’t.”

  She tugged at her restraints. Would he untie at least one hand? If he did, maybe she could bash him over the head with something and get loose. The stupidity of that dawned on her. He was twice her size. There was no way she could overpower him. Her best option was to get free and run like hell.

  “Can you at least tie both hands to one post? My shoulders are killing me being stretched out like this. I’m not as big as you are.”

  Concern softened his face. “All right.”

  He untied her right hand but left the rope threaded through metal link on the leather cuff. The mattress dipped and heat wafted over her face as he leaned over her, pulling her arm toward the opposite bedpost. Lacy slammed her knee into his balls.

  A harsh burst of air ripped from him and her wrist slid from his grip. She curled her free hand into a fist and swung, catching him on the side of the head. Kicking her feet, she sank her teeth into his forearm until her jaw ached. The bedside lamp crashed to the floor. The comforter slid off, pooling beside the bed. Lacy bit harder.

  “Jesus, Lace, stop it!”

  Erik manhandled her, grabbing her flailing arm so tightly she lost feeling in her fingers. Twisting, he yanked his arm free of her bite, ignoring the small smear of blood she’d drawn. He forced her wrist up and over to the left bedpost where he knotted the blue rope tight, binding her hands together far enough away from the knots that she couldn’t reach them.

  She kept kicking but he overpowered her easily. He wasn’t even breathing hard when he climbed from the bed. A smile spread across his face. “Damn, babe, you’re fun in bed, know that?”

  “Fuck you!”

  One golden brow arched. “I plan to, later.”

  Frustration erupted through her. Her bloodcurdling yell echoed off the walls. Erik didn’t even blink. She jerked and thrashed but the restraints never budged. When she finally sagged back, defeated for the moment, tears burned her eyelids. She squeezed them tight and refused to let them fall. “You bastard.”

  He froze, every line of his body cementing to a stop in front of her. It was almost as
if she’d hurt him, but knew better. A silly little name couldn’t hurt him and he’d earned a gold Bastardcard in her book. She glared at him and let the phrase loose once more. “You are a complete and utter bastard.”

  Something like regret shaded his gray eyes, turning the flint to slate. “Yeah, I’ve heard that a lot. You won’t believe me, but I love you.”

  If this was an example of his love, she’d rather have a flesh-eating virus.

  Suddenly, his shoulders jerked back as if slapped. “Damn it. I have to go. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  He left the apartment, the outer door closing with an ominous click. Lacy forced her mind to function. For what seemed like hours, she lay there and plotted. The clock showed barely five minutes had passed when her bladder knocked for attention. Oh, that was unfair. Although it would serve him right if she did pee in his bed, she couldn’t stomach the thought of laying in it herself.

  A single thought sprang to mind and she froze. She’d cleaned this room and had put every weapon back exactly where she found it, including the humungous knife beneath the mattress. Could she just…

  Using her butt and her thighs, she pushed and maneuvered until the mattress slid down about six inches. Thanking heaven he didn’t have a footboard, she planted her feet on the thick edge of the bed and shoved. The mattress slid away exposing the linen-wrapped box springs and a beautifully sharp knife.

  It was huge, longer than the hunters’ knives she was familiar with and heavier than her own butcher’s blades. It was nearly as long as her forearm. Okay, she had a knife but her hands were tied. She thought about using her feet but she couldn’t grip with them. One clumsy move and the knife might fall to the floor, ruining any chance at escape.

  She did utilize her feet to drag the blade closer. Then she scooted down, an inch at a time, until she lay flat on the box springs. A hysterical laugh brewed in her throat as she nudged the hilt around with her nose until she could take the bottom part in her mouth. She was giving head to a knife.